Scotland Street Volume 18, Chapter 35: Olive olivissima

By Alexander McCall Smith

Published 21st Mar 2025, 07:00 BST

“So, there you are, Bertie,” she crowed. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Bertie looked about him. He toyed with the idea of running away, but he remembered Ranald Braveheart Macpherson’s warning that Pansy, Olive’s lieutenant, was known to be one of the fastest runners in the whole school. He glanced at Ranald, who was staring glumly at his feet.

“They weren’t waiting for us, Olive,” said Pansy accusingly. “They were thinking of running away. You can always tell. When boys have that look on their face, it means that they’re planning to run away.”

“From their responsibilities,” chimed in Rose. “They run away from their responsibilities, just like you always said, Olive.”

“That’s possible,” said Olive. She could afford to be magnanimous, and so she added, “I don’t think Bertie’s as bad as some other boys I could name.” She stared directly at Ranald. “For instance …” She trailed off, and affected a look of puzzlement. “For instance … what’s your name again?”

This was too much for Bertie. “He’s called Ranald Braveheart Macpherson, Olive. You know that jolly well.”

Olive was all innocence. “Oh, do I, Bertie? So you know what I’m thinking, do you?”

Bertie was silent.

“So, that’s the famous Ranald Braveheart Macpherson,” Olive continued. “That’s a big name for such a weedy boy. Sorry, Ranald, no offence, it’s just that it’s best to be honest about these things.”

Bertie sprang to his friend’s defence. “Ranald isn’t weedy, Olive. He’s quite strong. Stronger than you or Pansy.”

Pansy gasped. “Did you hear that, Olive?” she exclaimed. “Did you hear what Bertie said?”

Olive pursed her lips before responding. “I think I did, Pansy. But there are times when it is best to rise above crude insults, especially from boys who don’t know what they’re talking about. Such things are beneath our contempt.”

Pansy, though, felt that there was a point of principle here. “You shouldn’t let him get away with things like that, Olive.” She turned to Bertie, who noticed, for the first time, that Pansy had eyes that were almost yellow. It was like looking into the eyes of a cobra, he thought. Perhaps Mr Attenborough should come and make a film of Olive and Pansy in the playground. He was used to danger.

“You’d better watch out, Bertie Pollock,” hissed Pansy. “We could report you for sexism. You can’t say things like that about girls – not any longer.”

Ranald now spoke for the first time in this stressful encounter. “Bertie didn’t say anything rude,” he protested. “You were the ones who said I was weedy.”

“Well, you are,” snapped Rose. “It was Bertie who said that boys were stronger than girls.”

“I didn’t,” said Bertie. “All I said was that Ranald was stronger than you. That’s all.”

Olive burst out laughing at this, and was followed by Pansy and Rose. “That’s very funny, Bertie,” she said. “I know you didn’t mean it, because it’s so obvious that both Pansy and I are much stronger than Ranald Brave Pants, or whatever he calls himself.” She paused. “But we shouldn’t waste our time arguing about such trivial things. We have our book group, Bertie, as you may remember. Ranald can go and play by himself while we have our meeting. Or he can play with Tofu and Larch, if he’s as strong as you say he is.”

Bertie gave Ranald a despairing glance, but Ranald had already peeled himself away and was making his way across the playground to where a small knot of boys was engaged in some innocent pursuit. The battle was over as far as he was concerned, and he did not want his continued presence to make the situation more difficult for Bertie.

“Well, that sorts that out,” said Olive, in a businesslike manner. “Now let’s go and sit on that wall over there and have our book club.”

With the treaty of capitulation all but signed, Bertie accompanied the three girls to the low wall at the edge of the playground. Lakshmi, the other member of the book group, was already there. She gave Bertie a welcoming smile, which did not surprise him, as she was, in his mind, by far the most reasonable of the girls.

Olive called the meeting to order. “We only have another eight minutes,” she announced. “We wasted a lot of time this morning, but there we are. Now, Jane Austen: you can begin, Bertie.”

Bertie was not at all sure what to say. “Why me?” he asked.

“Because you’re the newest member,” said Olive. “These are the rules, Bertie. You have to accept that there are always rules and there’s no point in pretending that they don’t exist, even if you don’t like them.”

“I never said that I didn’t like rules.”

Olive glared at Bertie. “You’re wasting precious time, Bertie. Tell us what you think about the book.”

“I haven’t read it,” said Bertie. “How can I talk about a book I haven’t read?”

Olive sighed. “You are so literal, Bertie Pollock.”

“Seriously literal,” echoed Pansy.

Olive now shook a finger at Bertie. “I think I know why you didn’t read Pride and Prejudice, Bertie. “It’s because Jane Austen is a girl – that’s the reason, isn’t it? You think that you can refuse to read books by girls, don’t you?”

Bertie shook his head. “I don’t think that, Olive. I really don’t.”

“I’m going to have to tell Miss Campbell, Bertie,” Olive continued. “This school has a policy that forbids sexism. You know that as well as I do, and yet …” She shook her head, as if she found it difficult to comprehend the depths of Bertie’s transgressions. “And yet you still say things that Pansy and I find offensive.”

Pansy agreed. “Deeply offensive,” she said.

Bertie said nothing. Was this what really happened at book clubs? He stared down at the ground. If they thought this, then why did they not ask him to leave the book club – which was exactly what he wanted.

“However,” said Olive, “we’ll bear in mind that this is the first time you’ve been at our book club, Bertie, and that you need to learn how to behave. We’re here to support you, you know.”

“Yes,” agreed Pansy. “We’re on your side, Bertie – you know that, don’t you?”